Pooch Cafe: The Second Great Mailman War
by Will X
Summary: Poncho and boomer are forced to lead the dogs against the mailmen, as they one day knew they would be forced to do.
1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet day above the small city of Beaver Falls. Quiet, that is, except for the wooden cat and three dogs hurtling through the sky.

"AHHHHH!" screamed Poo Poo, the smallest of the three. Following him were his friends Poncho and Boomer. "WAS THIS A GOOD IDEA?" yelled Poncho, a small white dog with a black hexagonal shape around both of his eyes. "NO I DON'T LIKE BRUCE IKEA!" replied Boomer, a tall mutt, not able to hear him clearly.

Following the three of them was a small airborne rowboat with the logo of the U.S. Postal Service. Inside were three mailmen. Two were armed with backpack vaucum cleaners, and the third had a cannon into which he was pouring bills and Netflix envelopes. Poncho looked back and saw this. "DUCK" he yelled to Boomer and Poo Poo. They did this just in the nick of time, as a stream of roughly 40 envelopes came pouring out.

The envelopes hit the wooden cat, which went down, and landed on a car.


	2. Chapter 2

**To understand how Poncho and his friends got in that horrible situation, we'll have to take a look back to the start of Poncho's day...**

"MEOW-ROCH!"

That was the sound of a cat getting pushed off the couch. Poncho jumped up to where the cat had been moments before, and opened the newspaper. He read an article on some new discoveries made in a chemical laboratory not to far from his house, and did the soduku puzzle. "BLIK!" His phone beeped. It was a text from his friend Boomer, telling him "We need you at the cafe. " Poncho texted back "I'll b there", and jumped down.

The cafe in question was a shack in an alley off of Main Street. Bobo, the barman and owner, had turned the shack into a hangout for dogs. Poncho and his friends used it as an alternative to the dog park. Bobo rarely served food, and the coffee was sometimes just water. Boomer used it as the base for his pack, and his efforts to launch all cats into the sun via a cat-catapult. Poncho smiled as he remembered all the good times he had had there. And there were his friends. Boomer, his best pal, and alpha male. Hudson, the naive and far-to-ethical beagle. Poo Poo, the male Bichon Friese, who might be part cat. Gus, the scottish terrier who he had no good memories of.

"BLIK!"

It was Boomer again. "Where r u?" read the text. "On my way" replied Poncho. By the time Poncho had arrived at the cafe, it had begun to rain, and he was walked in, and his friends dived out of the way, knowing he was about to shake.

"We really need umbrellas." remarked Gus, a Scottish Terrier. Gus did not duck in time, and was soaked. "See this is what I mean. With umbrellas we could do away with this annoying..": Gus continued talking, unaware that no one was listening to him.

"So why exactly did you need me here for?" demanded Poncho. "I was just settling in for my post-breakfast nap."

"Our long-range scanners detected something alarming." said Hudson.

"We have long-range scanners?" Hudson led Poncho through a door, and pointed to a group of dogs sitting at computers, looking through Google+, Facebook, blogs, Wikia, Wikipedia, and CNN. "Ah." said Poncho. "So what exactly _did_ our 'long range scanners' pick up? I really need my naps."

"This." replied Hudson, and nodded to a dog sitting at one of the stations. The dog clicked on a tab open to the news website for a town called Beaver Falls. The Website boasted that they were hosting the 38th annual international mailman convention next week.

"Oh my god." Poncho whispered, barley able to breathe. "You there!" he shouted at a lieutenant supervising, "Take it up to level seven. As of this moment, we are officially at war." The dog's eyes widened, and he started shaking, his tail drooping between his legs.

"Belay that." ordered Boomer. The young officer sighed in relief. "This information does not leave this room. I do not plan to initiate a mass panic among this canine community. Lieutenant." he pointed to the same dog, "Inform our Beaver Falls division of the situation. Tell them to cover it up, and monitor the situation 24/7."

Yessir!" the officer replied and hurried away to contact the dog in charge of the Beaver Falls station. Hudson and Poncho exchanged a glance as Boomer began barking orders around the room. They both knew that this would be yet another adventure for the three of them, no doubt endangering Poo Poo again along the way.

"Hudson!" Boomer shouted, jerking both of the smaller dogs back to the present. "Tell BoBo to assemble the council."

* * *

The council in question was a group of dogs that advised Boomer in the running of his pack, and handled the administrative matters of the Catapult-all-cats-into-the-sun organization. It consisted of Poncho (Beta Male), Hudson (stenographer), Poo Poo (major), Gus (someone keeps inviting him), Bobo (it was his Bar, after all), and a few other dogs. Their job was to make sure Boomer was somewhat fair in his rulings, and to approve funding for various projects. Getting them all together was hard, but when Hudson told BoBo to add that they were barley staying out of level seven, every single member dropped what he was doing and rushed to the cafe.

"I need options, people!" shouted Boomer, once they had all assembled.

"Um, technically, we're dogs, not people." said Poo Poo. "So what you really should be saying is 'I need options, dogs'" The other pooches giggled, but a glare from Boomer was all it took to silence them. "Sorry." said Poo Poo.

"As I was saying, I need options on how to deal with this." The projector display switched from the BoomerLand logo to the webpage announcing the mailman convention. Their was a collective gasp from around the room. "As you see, this is a threat to our very existence. We're keeping it covered up at the moment, but it's taking a drain on resources. I've already alerted the Canine Security Force, and they assure me they will send some agents." Canine Security Force is the organization tasked with the security of the canine empire. For something like a regional Cat Lover's meeting they left that to the packs in the area, but a national mailman convention, not to mention a _global_ one is something they could not afford to ignore. "So," continued Boomer, "what are my options?"

'We..could..attack!" Shouted the ever-too-millitaristic Gus. "We have the advantage of surprise, and at the moment, a superior force. According to the website," he pointed at the projector screen, still open to the news website, "the convention is barely open. It won't really start until tomorrow."

"No" Boomer responded. "I won't go to war yet. My superiors at C.S.F. have ordered me to stay put, and that's what I plan to do." At that moment, the young lieutenant burst through the door. " Damn it, now what?" Boomer snapped, growing more and more irritable by the second.

"We're sorry sir, but he claims he has to show you something." said one of the guards by the door.

"We just received this transmission from our outpost in beaver falls!" He hit a few buttons on the laptop hooked up to the projector, and the display switched to a video of the sergeant in charge of the outpost. The audio was broken, but he did not realize this as he kept screaming and gesturing. Then, an explosion engulfed the door behind him, killing him instantly. The last few seconds of footage showed mailmen entering the command center before the screen switched to static. For a moment, everyone in the command center was silent.

Then Boomer said "I think we can go to level seven now, Poncho."

* * *

Boomer's Pack had a considerable fighting force. Three divisions each divided into four platoons consisting of four six-dog squadrons. The divisions answered to Major Poo Poo, who in turn answered directly to General Boomer. There was also an artillery regiment with two tanks, one infantry squadron, and four mechs. All of the military hardware was stored in an underground warehouse three floors below Pooch Café. Tw floors below Pooch Café was the War Room, where Poncho, Boomer, Hudson, and Poo Poo now sat, surrounded by technicians and officers, both human and canine, going over status reports and running diagnostics

"Poncho, Poo Poo, you're with me." Boomer said. "And, Poo Poo, take your best squad."

"I'm not doing anything until I know where we are going." the Bichon Friese replied indignantly.

"Me neither." said Poncho.

"Dammit." said Boomer. "Fine. I want to know exactly what happened to that outpost. We're going to Beaver Falls."


	3. Chapter 3

A black helicopter flew through the sky towards Beaver Falls. Inside sat Boomer, Poncho, Poo Poo, and the squad. A human medic sat nearby, waiting for any potential casualties.

"NOW REMEMBER!" shouted Boomer, just barely audible above the roar of the helicopter's rotors. "WE HAVE **NO IDEA** WHAT HAPPENED AT THIS OUTPOST."

"Uh, we kinda do." said Poncho. "The sergeant contacted us and we saw the whole thing.

"Shut up Ponddcho." said Boomer, glaring at his friend and second in command. He turned towards the human pilot, and nodded, the pilot lowering the helicopter down, landing it on an empty lot, save what appeared to be a run-down shack, and a Porta-Potty. Boomer lead his team towards the shack, as the helicopter lifted back up into the openness of the sky. They entered the run-down building, and gasped at the destruction. Usually upon entering, they would flip a hidden switch revealing an access panel, but instead they found devastation. Boxes were torn aside, and had clearly been set on fire. Were the secret door to the base was, they found a gaping hole, with several razor-sharp bills and chain letters embedded in the wall behind it. The elevator was barley working, and gave a little lurch when Boomer stepped on it. "You first." he said to Poncho. Poncho glared at his friend, and stepped in, expecting the cable to snap, and to plummet to his death. He was lucky, and nodded at his freinds, signaling them that it was safe. He opened the hatch to the cable. Two soldiers jumped down the cord, then two more. Poncho and Boomer followed, and they in turn were followed by Major Poo Poo and the final two soldiers.

* * *

Hudson was in charge of the pack in Boomer's absence. Ordinarily he would be happy to take command of the group, but during a level seven crisis, let alone one where he would have to deal with Canine Security, he was apprehensive. At this moment he was authorizing deployments of platoons in defensive positions across the city.

"Move group four to Main Street." he shouted. "Stage a false gas leak to evacuate the section from Forth Strdeet to Palm Ave.". His orders were quickly carried out.

"Sir!" Said the young lieutenant. "Major Jim, of the Canine Security Force to see you, sir.". Hudson nodded, and the young officer initiated a sharp salute, and walked over to supervise troop deployments.

"Hudson, am I right?" Jim said calmly, flanked by two human agents. Hudson nodded, unsure how to deal with the C.S.F. official.

"If you will follow me into our conference room, I can give you an update on the situation." Hudson said testily. Jim nodded, and they turned towards the room.

* * *

Once they had all reached the bottom of the elevator shaft, they headed through the charred remains of the door frame into the Beaver Falls outpost. The small team rained cautious and on edge, as most of them had been hear before; Poncho, Boomer, and Poo Poo on a regular inspection, and the squad on a tour of duty the previous month.

"I had lunch right here ." whispered the corporal sadly, not daring to breathe as he looked at the scorched remnants of the mess hall. Tables were overturned, and food supplies were scattered everywhere. Poncho and Poo Poo immediately rushed into the ruined cafeteria and started eating the food.

"Stop it, you two!" Shouted Boomer. The two smaller dogs froze, Poncho holding a half-empty bag of dog treats to his mouth, Poo Poo in mid-bite while eating a pickle. "We're on a mission, and all you two can think of is _food?"_

"Hey, we're dogs." retorted Poncho. "It's what we do."

"Sigh". said Boomer, "I can't argue with that." He turned to the squad. "Go ahead." The words were hardly out of his mouth before the six dogs rushed forward, joining the two dogs already there. Boomer sighed again, and joined them. All nine canines ate, unaware of the fact that they were not alone in the ruins of the base.

* * *

Hudson was having trouble with Jim: The Canine Security representative was proving difficult to please.

"So, as you can see," Hudson was saying, "we've deployed groups in defensive formations throughout the city." A map of the city appeared on the screen. It showed the location of four different platoons positioned around the city. "Gus." he nodded at the Scottish terrier.

"We're quite certain that the defensive construct we have at the moment will hold, should they try a frontal assault on our city." said Gus. "However, should they try an _aerial_ assault, well..." his voice trailed off, the meaning of the silence quite obvious.

"What we are hoping you can do is provide us with some of the aircraft docked in Dyer Bay, near the Petit Manan National Wildlife Refuge in Maine." said Hudson, picking up after Gus. The screen switched to a defensive plan. Two eight-plane squadrons from Dyer Bay would land at a private airstrip near the outskirts of the city. They would assume a defensive formation in the event of a mailman assault from the air. Jim's brow furrowed.

"We only have six squadrons at Dyer." said the officer. " _If_ I consider your plan, and that's a big if, I'd have to talk it over with my superiors." Jim's superiors were likely to approve it, seeing as they would want to contain the convention in Beaver Falls. However, Jim would have to okay it to be passed to his superiors, and Jim was not likely to do that. Hudson sighed. "Now," said Jim, "Tell me where Boomer is."

"I already told you. He's in the rural areas, shoring up our defenses out there." Hudson said. Boomer had given him strict orders to misdirect Jim for as long as possible.

"No, I think not." said Jim. " _If_ you had defenses in the rural areas, and _if_ Boomer cared about them, (two very big if's, let me remind you), he would have sent **_you."_** He pointed at Hudson. "Or _**you."**_ he pointed at Gus. The two dogs looked at each other. They both knew their luck had run out.

"Fine." Hudson finally said. "We received a transmission from our outpost in Beaver Falls saying they were under attack. Boomer took Poncho, Poo Poo, and a squad to investigate."

"I would like to see this transmission." said Jim. Hudson nodded at the technician operating the projector. He pressed a few buttons, and a recorded playback of the transmission appeared on the screen. Jim's eyes widened. "Oh my god." he whispered. After thirty seconds of silence, he finally said: "Did Boomer order you to take it up to level seven?"

"Yes." Hudson nodded. At that moment a human aide burst through the door. "Sir!" he saluted at Hudson, before handing him a clipboard. Hudson's tail drooped between his two back legs. "Thank you Wendell." he whispered. The aide saluted again and walked back out the door. "You better see this." the beagle said to Gus. Gus took the clipboard and read it over. His eyes widened, and his tail initiated the same response, drooping between his legs.

"What is on that clipboard." Jim demanded. "In my acting capacity as representative of Canine Security, I respectfully demand to know the contents of that clipboard." Wordlessly, Hudson handed it to him. His eyes widenwyed for the second time in as many minutes. "If you'll excuse me, I have to authorize _three_ squadrons of planes to come in from Dyer." He put down the clipboard, showing that a group of mailmen had hit the base on the outermost outskirts of the city, and had (barely) been repelled. Jim and the two human agents left to contact Dyer.

"We're in trouble now." Gus said to Hudson.

* * *

Having finished off the remains of the food, the small team's morale dropped to a somber mood again quickly. They hurried through the base, searching for evidence. The bodies of both mailmen and BoomerLand operatives littered the floor of the hallway leading to the command center. The door of the command center was torn off it's hinges, and the technicians and officers were strew across the room.

"Look," said Poncho. ""The sergeant is still breathing."

"Barely." said Poo Poo. "Contact the helicopter." he said to the corporal. Get this man to the surface." The corporal nodded and tapped a few codes into his communicator.

"Get back here!" he shouted at the pilot, who nodded, and turned his aircraft back towards the drop site. Two soldiers rushed forward with a stretcher salvaged from the base's medBay, and another three lifted the barley conscious officer onto the stretcher.

"I... failed you." he said to Boomer. "They took our catapult." The outpost in Beaver Falls housed the largest catapult of the Catapult all cat's into the sun organization. "They took it. I'm...sorry." His eyes rolled into his head, and his body went slack.

"He's unconscious." said the corporal. "We need to get him to a medical facility _stat_!"

"You're not going anywhere." came a voice. All nine dogs turned and found themselves face to face with a mailman.

* * *

The Canine Empire had been around for over 1,000 years. Made up of various dog packs that signed treaties in early medieval times to combat the threats following the chaos surrounding the fall of the Roman Empire, it was at first a chaotic and mostly undisciplined organization. In the 1500's, the ruling council had formed Canine Protect Agency (literacy rates among dogs were low in the middle ages) to combat threats to the empire's existence, such as the rats carrying the plague. By 1776, the empire employed several "human traitors" who believed the world would be better off under the control of the dog species. Using the "traitors", the ruling families, packs, and organizations that made up the highest levels of the empire began to manipulate world events. In 1805, following the bloody French Revolution, and the Louisiana Purchase, they formalized the chain of command, leaving regions (such as the area surrounding Poncho's city and Beaver Falls under the command of one Alpha (like Boomer). These Alpha's in turn, answered to officials from Canine Security, who answered to the Empire Department of State and Taxes, who answered directly to the ruling council. In 1908, Canine Protect _ion_ Agency was renamed 'Canine Security Force' or just simply, Canine Security

By 1963, Canine Security had taken on a more intelligence organization sort of role, leaving threats to the regional pack leaders. In 2004, a young and ambitious cadet from the C.S.F. academy joined with the name "Jim". He hoped to become a great officer, like his father, Colonel Ajax, before him. However, his father was killed in a shootout with a rouge cat faction, and any trace of optimism quickly abandoned Jim's mind. He became more focused, more dedicated. His superiors were dully impressed, and he rose through the ranks, until he reached Major in 2007. He had a clean record, with one hundred percent success. One hundred percent success, that is, until September 2009, when he encountered Poncho Perry Palmer.

It was a routine mission. He and another dog were seeking out potential cat staging sites. They knew that a dog in the area lived with a few cats (thanks to Boomer's less-than-detailed reports), but they had no idea who it was, or how many cats. They were surprised to learn that the dog was actually the Beta for the nearby pack, and he lived in a house with nine cats. Poncho was subsequently arrested, but he later escaped, becoming a black mark on Jim's permanent record. This led to Jim being punished by handing all matters with BoomerLand, and a few other local packs. He encountered Poncho again when they sent him tho gather intel on the same brood of cats that caused Poncho to get arrested in the first place. Poncho gathered little intel, claiming they did nothing. During a heated debate, another dog named Poo Poo was suggested for the role, and the two dogs argued over who should go. Jim later left, and was mildly reprimanded for failing to get any Intel on the cats.

By 2017, Jim hated the insolent group of ne'er-do-wells made up of moronic humans and dogs that called themselves 'BoomerLand' and wished the would just merge with another pack. Yet here he was, still working as the liaison to that God -awful pack.

"Jim. JIM!" someone was shouting. The Major was jolted back to the present to find Hudson standing in front of him. "Did your superiors say yes?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Jim said blearily. He regained his composure " They said yes. Three squadrons of F-16's are on their way to our location."

Hudson breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shore up our defenses." The beagle walked away, leaving Jim to his thoughts.

"We have the planes." Hudson said calmly to Gus in the midst of the chaotic war room. Gus only nodded, too distracted by status reports.

"Tell him no. We can't spare any troops to his position." He told the young lieutenant. The officer saluted and walked away to carry out this new task. "You're worried." He said, turning to his friend.

Hudson nodded. "Don't tell Boomer I said this, but I don't think he's not the best leader during tense situations. And Poncho's mentally unstable, and no matter _how_ brilliant of a tactician he may be, Poo Poo's just not that intimidating in a combat situation." Gus nodded again, not at all surprised by his friend's opinion of their associates and long-time friends.

"Let's just hope they make it back alive." Gus said, tapping a few commands into his tablet, even as he spoke.

* * *

Boomer, Poncho, Poo Poo, and the squad were having trouble making it back alive. They all stood there, numb with shock as the mailman stepped into the chamber. His hair was slicked back, greasy brown, with streaks of grey. His cap was missing, and he had a scar on his right cheek. His muscles bulged as if he'ed just come back from working out. All in all, he made a pretty intimidating mailman. He laughed, a harsh sound, as though his throat was made of rusted metal and filled with gravel.

"So, who talks first?" Boomer said. "You talk first? I talk first?" The mailman laughed again. Boomer shot him.

"That was too easy." said the Corporal.

"Disturbingly easy." agreed Poncho.

"Ah, who cares?" said Boomer "He's out of the picture, we can get out of here." The other dogs nodded and followed their leader and alpha out of the ruined command center.

"CLICK" Poncho turned.

"I heard something." Poncho said, growing nervous.

"Ah, It's just your nerves playin' tricks on you." reassured Boomer.

"CLICK. CLICK."

"I had that too said Poo Poo, and Poncho nodded.

"NOTHING!" Boomer shouted, now trying to reassure himself, everyone else already a lost cause.

"CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!"

"RUUNNN!" Boomer shouted, giving up all pretense of a fearless leader. His loyal followers eagerly followed this new command, and one at a time, they scurried back up the rope to the burned-out shack, and into the helicopter, which lifted away.

Deep inside the bowels of the base, one mailman remarked to his comrades:

"Man, i knew we shouldn't have worn these things.", referring to the tap shoes they wore.

* * *

 **That chapter took me a while to write, partly because I was on vacation. Please favorite and review!**


	4. Chapter 4: The short chapter

"FOOOMP" The helicopter landed in the hangar bay of the café. The doors closed with a bang.

"You're back!" Hudson shouted joyfully. Boomer, Poncho and Poo Poo exchanged a glance.

"Is Major Jim here?" asked Boomer. As Hudson was too excited at his friend's safe return, Gus just nodded in Boomer's direction, before turning back to a cargo manifest. Boomer nodded back. "Where is he?" Gus pointed to the command center. "Thanks." As they five dogs went up the stairs, Boomer turned to an officer and said "Go tell the squad they've earned a little R&R, and then make sure that the sergeant from the base is moved to the Infirmary." The officer nodded, and hurried to carry out his task.

The command center was complete chaos. Human and canine agents alike swarmed Boomer the moment he entered the room, demanding his attention and opinion on how to deal with each new threat. Poncho spotted one officer, the young lieutenant who had previously been so helpful. He flagged him down.

"Satus update. Now." he said.

"Well, shortly after you left, Major Jim from Canine Security arrived." the officer began. "He went into the conference room with Commanders Hudson and Gus. Roughly ten minutes into their conversation, we received a report from an outpost detailing how a platoon of mailmen attacked them, and were barley repelled." He took a breath. "When Major Jim read this report, he seemed very shaken, and authorized deployment of three aircraft squadrons from the Dyer Bay Base. Then, squadrons of mailmen attacked all over the city."

Poncho brushed past the young officer to look at the war map. It seemed that most of their forces were arrayed in a defensive perimeter around the center of town, with an arm branched out to defend an area.

"What's in that area?" Boomer asked a human technician.

"Oh, just a chemical company and some shoe stores." he replied. " Nothing really. We're preparing to withdraw, with your approval of course." The officer added. If Poncho had a brow, he would have furrowed it. A chemical company, a chemical company. Where had he...

"DON'T PULL OUT!" Poncho shouted, surprising everyone in the command center, including him.

"Poncho, are you okay?" Boomer asked.

"Yes!" Poncho replied, shoving his friends out of the way in his haste to get to the holographic display table. "This morning" he continued hurriedly, searching for the relevant data, "I read a story in the news about a chemical company." God, was it really this morning? It all seemed so long ago..."There were some new discoveries being made there. Ah, found it." He pulled up the story on a news website.

"ChemCal..." Boomer read off the screen. "Just last Thursday, scientists working for the small chemical company called 'ChemCal' discovered an acidic compound that can...EAT THROUGH CERTAIN TYPES OF METAL!" Their was a stunned silence as everyone in the command center processed what they had just heard. "That must be what they're after." Boomer breathed, barley daring to speak. He recovered from his shock. "Redirect one of the aircraft squadrons to keep that supply line open." he shouted as everyone else recovered from their shock. "I want that compound!" A murmur of assent rippled through the room, and everyone hurried to get the job done.

* * *

 **Location: Beaver Falls Convention Center, GROUND ZERO in the Second Great Mailman War.**

Mailmen swarmed over the complex. The upper levels had been turned into a command center.


	5. A suicide mission

**LOCATION: BEAVER FALLS CONVENTION CENTER, GROUND ZERO OF THE SECOND GREAT MAILMAN WAR.**

Mailmen swarmed the complex. The upper levels had been turned into a command center. Among the various officers, a young man named Neville walked. His knowledge of the local pack's Beta Male, Poncho Palmer, had been instrumental in the early victories of the campaign, but he was now beginning to doubt the worthiness of the cause. Standing on the edge of the balcony, he watched as the local police force arrived, escorting the captured catapult. The Beaver Falls government was only to eager to join a campaign against the canine race, having previously attempted to ban dogs from the metro-downtown area. At this very moment, Neville's boss and the Postmaster General were signing a treaty with the Beaver Falls city council. Neville looked over to his display, 'Dealing with a difficult Dog on your route.' It was popular before they had been informed of the plan to invade the surrounding areas. Neville sighed. He kinda liked that little dog, Poncho. He may have scarred him mentally, but there was a grudging admiration. And now he was fighting a war.

* * *

"This is a schematic of the Beaver Falls convention center." said Gus. A revolving holographic display of the building floated in the center of the command room. "This is most likely location of the catapult." A red dot marked the location of the suspected holding place. "Any questions?" no one spoke. "Very well. Major Jim?" The Canine Security representative nodded.

"We have stolen a small U.S. postal service helicopter to use to sneak into the convention center." Jim began. "Our strike team will use this code to deactivate the shield surrounding the convention center: TH84H-ALPHA." A murmur rippled through the room. Hudson raised his hand.

"Who is on the strike team?"

"Good question." Jim replied. "Boomer has volunteered to lead the team." All eyes turned to the alpha male. Boomer gave a nervous laugh. "Boomer, would you like to detail your plan?" Boomer laughed again, and tugged on his collar, before standing up. Poncho smirked at his friend's uncomfortableness.

"So, the..uh.. plan.." began Boomer. "Is to land the shuttle here, at landing pad A."

A holographic version of the helicopter landed at the pad. "And that's the plan." There was silence. Jim frowned. Someone coughed. Then, Poncho spoke up.

"That's it?" the small dog said incredulously. "That's the plan?" Boomer smiled nervously and tugged at his collar again.

"We don't have..that much intel about their headquarters. Actually none at all, apart from the floor plan and photos pulled off of a Google search." The entire gathering groaned. Poncho sighed.

"How many do you need?" he asked. Before Boomer could answer, another aide ran into the room. He handed Boomer a slip of paper, before rushing back out again.

"I have j-just…..been i-informed" Boomer began, his voice shaking. "That the Mailmen have acquired the acidic compound." There was some murmuring around the room.

"Well," Jim remarked callously. "It looks like we'll have to move our plans ahead of schedule."

* * *

The hangar was once more abuzz with activity. The aircraft from Dyer Bay had landed to be serviced and refueled, and the captured helicopter was to one side. Poo Poo and the squad quietly conferred regarding the plan as Poncho, two human agents, and Boomer approached.

"-omplex's security procedures are extreme." Explained Poo Poo. "Poncho and Boomer will take half of you to infiltrate the vault where we believe the compound is being held, and the other half will follow me to the landing pad where they have allegedly placed the catapult. Two human operatives disguised as mailmen will stay with the chopper should we need to make a hasty escape."

 _Which is extremely likely._ Thought Boomer.

"Are we ready?" Poncho asked.

"Yes" Poo Poo replied. "Everyone's here, and the 'copter is fueled up."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Boomer said with a nervous laugh. "Let's go on this suiide mission.

* * *

 **I haven't updated this story in a while, mostly due to other, bigger fics I've been working on. If anyone actually is interested in this fic review it or something. Otherwise its going on hiatus.**


End file.
